


Silence is Golden but Trash Cans are Silver

by xxMOONLITsky



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMOONLITsky/pseuds/xxMOONLITsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The original prompt from the sherlockbbc-fic comm on LJ was “Sherlock decides to play an epic game of Hide and Seek with Mycroft, dragging John all over London.” Thanks to Eliza, it became this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence is Golden but Trash Cans are Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft, Lestrade, Sherlock, and John (and all other associated characters) belong to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and the BBC; original credit for the creation of the characters goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

“For the love of all things holy,  _stop giggling!_ ”

Lestrade, for all that he sounded angry, couldn’t control his grin.  One would think, growing up with Sherlock for a brother, that Mycroft would understand the importance of silence, especially in cases such as this.  But, the logistics of the situation acknowledged, Mycroft just  _could not stop laughing_.

It certainly didn’t help that two of Britain’s most upstanding citizens – well, Greg liked to think he was pretty upstanding, rough edges notwithstanding – were hiding behind a large lorry, trying their best and utterly failing to stay quiet.  Why were they hiding behind a lorry, you ask?  Hide and seek, of course.  (Yes, you read that correctly.  No-nonsense Mycroft Holmes and Bringer of Justice Gregory Lestrade were voluntarily playing hide and seek like children, and  _boy, were they having a good time._ )

“I’m  _trying_ , Gregory, honest,” Mycroft shot back in a hushed whisper from his crouched position in front of Lestrade.  “But how many times can you say you’ve seen Sherlock be so utterly  _ridiculous_?”

“Do you  _really_  want me to answer that?” Greg grinned, eyes twinkling.

“Hush, Gregory.”

Mycroft’s clipped tone, already diminished by the laughter threatening to bubble out once more, was overruled by one of his hands reaching back and grabbing one of the DI’s.  Greg smiled and took the elder Holmes’ hand, squeezing it softly.  Moments like this were few and far between, and made Greg  _so utterly overjoyed_ to have found Mycroft Holmes.  Only a select group of individuals got to see this side of the British Government; the side that wasn’t concerned about keeping the English mothership afloat, the side that just wanted to enjoy himself.   _This_  side of Mycroft was utterly playful, quick witted, and full of dirty suggestiveness that one only noticed if you knew what to look for.  Fortunately for Greg, he was a walking Mycroft-to-English dictionary.

“Can you see Sherlock, then?” Greg asked, stretching a bit from his crouching position in an attempt to see over Mycroft’s shoulder and the top edge of the lorry.

“Yes, and  _stay down_ ,” Mycroft replied, reaching back to pull Lestrade closer to ground level; after another moment of thought, he grabbed the DI by the shirt and pulled him flush with his own back.  “He’s just – ”

Mycroft broke off in a snort, hand flying up to his mouth to smother his giggles.  Greg’s eyes twinkled with mischief and curiosity as he grabbed Mycroft’s shoulder, turning the other man on the balls of his feet to match his gaze.

“Whatever just happened must have been  _utterly fantastic_ , ‘cause in the seven years I’ve known you, I have never heard you  _snort_.”

Mycroft took another couple of seconds to compose himself, one hand running distractedly through his hair as he grinned.

“He’s just – and for  _him especially_ , that’s ridiculous – I can’t believe he’d – ”

“Mycroft!” Greg hissed, grinning from ear to ear.  “Out with it!”

“He’s just looked under a flowerpot.”

There was silence for a couple of minutes before Greg burst out laughing, body shaking with delight so much that he overbalanced in his crouching position, ending up sprawled out on the ground in the alleyway in plain view of John and Sherlock, the latter of whom simply fixed the DI with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.  Sighing, Mycroft stood up, flattening out the newly-made wrinkles in his suit as he took the couple steps necessary to put himself astride the DI’s splayed form.

“And you told  _me_  to be quiet,” Mycroft said, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a grin.

“But he – a  _flowerpot_  – My, I just – ” Greg trailed off into giggles once more.

John looked back and forth between his husband, his step-brother, and  _his_ husband before fixing Sherlock with an impressed glance.

 “I think you broke him.” 


End file.
